Sweet Solace (The Seattle Sound Series Book 1) (7 page)

“What does it say?” Abbi asked.

“I’ll read it later,” I said, closing my laptop.

“You’re so mean,” Abbi moaned.

“Did I ask you about your conversation with Pitcher Luke?”

“I’d tell you if you’d share your sexting with me,” Abbi said, crossing her arms.

I gaped at her. “You did not just say that!”

“Too much? ’Kay, I didn’t. Am I cooking dinner or can we go out? I really want some manicotti. Practice kicked my butt.”

“Out. But I need a shower.”

* * *

T
he private message
from Asher lingered in my mind the entire time I was showering and through dinner. I enjoyed the building anticipation.

I’d missed the heady feel that came from a new relationship. Not that I was in a relationship with Asher. I had to remember he was just a friend. A friend who maybe was going to become a business associate.

I pushed my plate away, no longer hungry.

“Read the message, already,” Abbi snapped. “It’s not going to change what he said to you a few days ago.”

I pulled out my phone but made a point of frowning at my daughter as I did so. She just grinned, all smug, and forked up another bite of her dinner.

My hands shook, and I had to set the phone on the table. I opened the app, holding my breath. I clicked on the message before I could chicken out.

I’ve been thinking about you though I probably shouldn’t. I want to know how you’re holding up. Any more panic attacks?

Much as I want to do this sound track with you, I’ve hit a snag. Jessica found out about it and is making noises about reconciliation. She doesn’t mean it. She just wants more from me—more money, more fame.

I told you we’ve been legally separated for months. Our lawyers are hammering out details for our court date. It’s soon. And, Dahlia, I can’t wait. Because for the first time in years, I have something I’m looking forward to. I’m looking forward to spending time with you.

You better hold up your end of the bargain. Start writing.

“So?” Abbi asked.

I raised my eyebrow.

“Mom!” Abbi fell back into her chair, arms down by her side. “You’re so killing my mood.”

“He says he’s been thinking about me, and I need to start writing.” I didn’t mention his divorce because I knew what she’d say, and I wasn’t sure I’d know how to respond.

I pulled at my hair. He wanted to spend time with me. What kind of time?

Was it bad my mind went immediately to sex? The good, scream-his-name kind I hadn’t had in years.

Abbi sat up, a large smile on her face. “Awesome! All true.” She reached over and stole a bite from my plate. “Hey, this is good. I might order it next time.”

“All yours.”

“I told you I was hungry.”

She forked up more of my linguini, slurping it a little before putting her hand in front of her mouth.

“It’s messy. I’m not ordering that in front of Luke. He might get grossed out. How’d you eat it so neatly?”

“Practice. So tell me, why doesn’t Varsity Pitcher Luke have a girlfriend?” I asked as I pushed my plate closer to Abbi’s side of the table.

She shrugged. “He did until just before spring break.”

“And?”

“He broke up with her.” Abbi’s cheeks turned pink, and she was very serious about twirling a bite of pasta onto her fork.

“Do not tell me you were involved in that.” My voice was sharp.

Abbi’s eyes flew to mine, the fork clattering to the table.

“No! She moved. To, like, New Jersey or something.”

“And you decided to insert yourself into his life.
After
he and his girlfriend broke up.”

Abbi picked up her fork and shoved it into her mouth. “Yeah,” she said around the pasta.

I shook my head. “Just so you know, I would never have had the guts to go after a guy I liked in high school. If your dad hadn’t constantly flirted with me, I would’ve never had the courage to go out with him. And I’m not going after anyone now either. Asher’s married, anyway.” Technically. But that was enough.

Abbi swallowed her bite and set down her fork. “Word in the media is that they’re having problems. They’ve been separated for months.”

“Did you look him up?”

“Of course. With Aunt Ella.”

“I’m totally mortified you did that.”

“You’ll get over it, especially if you start a relationship with him. By the way, there’ve been a couple of articles that she’s seeing some other guy and filed for a divorce.”

“I’m not a marriage breaker-upper.”

“You do realize that’s not a word, right? I don’t see the harm in going after what you want, Mom.”

“This discussion is officially closed.”

“Fine,” Abbi said, flopping back in her chair. The kid was so dramatic. “But you really need to do something for yourself. You and I both know life isn’t fair. Did you look at the dating profile I set up for you?”

“Not yet, but I will.”

We sat in silence, mine thoughtful, Abbi’s sullen, until the waiter brought a box and the bill.

“You’d want to be the reason some kid lost one of his parents?” I asked.

Abbi glared at me, her fair skin flaring tomato-red as it always did when she was embarrassed or truly angry.

“People make their own decisions about their lives. Dad chose to get on that plane. He chose to jump out of it, too. And guess what? We’re the ones who pay for his actions.”

“That’s exactly my point,” I said. But I was discombobulated, like my daughter had faked a pass right and spun around me to the left.

“Which means we’re the ones who have to find our own happiness.” Abbi smiled in triumph. “May I drive home?”

I handed Abbi the keys as she stood.

* * *

I
went
straight back to my computer when we got home.

“Ooh, you’re going to answer him!” Abbi squealed as she leaned her hip against the edge of my desk.

“No, I’d planned to work on my proposal for HBO.”

She rolled her eyes because we both knew it was a lie. I blew out a breath and leaned back in my chair. I looked up into Abbi’s eyes—so much like Doug’s—and saw a world of excitement I hadn’t felt in years.

“I want to answer him,” I said. “I think he and I can be friends, Abs. We might work together for the miniseries, but that’s it. I-I need to learn to take care of myself, not lean on someone else for my happiness. You’re right about that.”

“Like you did with Dad?”

I bit my lip and slammed my eyes closed, hoping she hadn’t seen the anger in them.

“Mom?”

“Yeah, like I did with Dad. We were so young.”

I’d needed Doug’s confidence, his support in high school. My father was dead, and my mom didn’t want my sister or me. Doug and I had grown up together, merging into one person in some ways. Doug’s opinions, laughter, even his silences had shaped the woman I’d become. And there was no way to cut out half your vital organs and survive that level of trauma. Even when that other half was the cause of the emotional turmoil. I hadn’t been strong enough to do it years ago, and I was still paying the price now.

I hadn’t realized—because it wasn’t something I’d allowed myself to consider—my feelings for Asher Smith were simmering underneath my day-to-day life with Doug. Since he’d sung “Moonshine Eyes” at that last performance, I’d gone over the edge from awareness to caring.

I’d thought those feelings were safe because they weren’t returned. He’d moved on to another band, and I’d moved away.

“I’m not much younger than you were when you moved in with Dad.”

I turned my head to smile at my daughter, the set of her chin just like Doug’s. “I was seventeen, not sixteen, and your dad couldn’t take any more community college courses. He needed to move to go to the university across town.”

“So it was no biggie to leave your high school friends, your school?”

“Here’s the rub. I was so wrapped up in your dad I didn’t care about any of that.” I didn’t add
then
. Abbi didn’t deserve that much honesty.

Abbi’s eyes misted. “I want that for me,” she said.

I didn’t. I’d overlooked Doug’s faults, willing to let him sustain my happiness as he had for years before we moved in together. When he blew apart what was left of our life together, I quit trying to find any kind of happiness. Worse, I quit living.

“I want more than that for you,” I said instead, gripping Abbi’s slender fingers. “I want you to stand up by yourself, be proud of the woman you’ve become. Find a partner, someone who loves you and respects who you are. You don’t need to complete the other person. You need to be your own person who is loved for who you are.”

Abbi’s brows drew down, and I knew she didn’t understand what I was saying to her. I wasn’t sure I understood myself, but I needed to find out who Dahlia Dorsey was, separate from Doug, if I had any hope of being happy again.

“I really am going to work on my proposal. I have to get something to Garcia and Paul by Friday.” I said.

“Do you have depression?” Abbi asked. She studied my face with narrowed eyes.

I laughed. “I have clarity. It’s refreshing.” I smiled at her, then dropped her hands. “Changes are a-comin’. You think you can keep up?” I teased.

“Pfft. I’m the poster child of flexibility.”

I grabbed her hand and squeezed. “That you are, and I’m sorry for it, Abigail.”

She pushed off the desk. “Not to worry.” She yawned. “If you won’t let me read your response to your boyfriend, I’m going to go obsess with Sally over what to wear to school tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. Want to go into Spokane this weekend? Shopping, hair, maybe a mani-pedi?”

Abbi threw me a grin over her shoulder. “I like these changes. We’re going to make you smoking, Mom.”

* * *

I
didn’t answer
Asher’s message that week though I did accept his friend request. I liked pulling up my account and seeing his face there, but I obsessed over his unlisted relationship status for two days.

He probably thought I was teasing him or, worse, ignoring his overture. I told myself I was doing neither. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say, especially after how I left it in the parking garage. I’d been scared so I chose to back away. My normal MO, one Doug had taken advantage of.

Asher and I both knew the importance of words. I wanted my response to him to be clear so that he knew what I expected moving forward. Since my head wasn’t capable of finding the right response yet, I procrastinated.

Unable to make any progress with the writing, I made copies of my notes and sent them to Bev. She went through and jotted down her thoughts, which I dutifully typed up into the proposal.

“It’s not your best work, but it shows that you’ve thought about it,” Bev said. “I don’t love the ending.”

Neither did I, but I hadn’t come up with anything better. “What if we send them these synopses but say I’m open to developing the appropriate ending for the series with their help? I think Paul would like that.”

“Hmm, you mean not sell these last two books you know you need to write, just the movie rights?”

That wasn’t what I wanted, but I couldn’t get the words onto the page. I might not have a choice.